Fix You
by namewithheld
Summary: a sequel to 'The Fix'. Adam reflects on Joan and leaves a note but another girl may have a different kind of claim on him. R


Title: Fix You

Author: Tote

Genre: angst, but you're not surprised

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Joan of Arcadia isn't mine but it should be. Fix You refers to Coldplay's wonderful song.

A/N: I hope no one gets too mad about the first paragraph. Amelia is borrowed from real life, the sweetest, prettiest, and greatest of her kind and I seriously considered kidnapping her when I left the US. Sadly, it was not meant to be. I think her and Adam would've gotten along. As for the shortness of this story…it's more of an interlude. Feel free to complain. Thanks to: Unchallenged, whose words I always anticipate and take to heart and Tee jay, who knows that flattery will get you anywhere and took no offense when I put our Shed Collection project on hold.

I still don't know what brought you to me, you with your shining face and your eyes that make a promise. I was half-asleep, staring at the things I'd had to buy: cribs, toys, (would she like them, swallow them, throw them at me?), a little music box that played a Bach song, who knows which. Not the one that matters, not the one I held your hand to.

I was thinking of her name…Amelia. And wondering, wondering why it made me think of you, and the taste of your name in my mouth, why it had that same magical ring to it. Was that a good sign? Or a bad one?

That's when you threw a rock at me.

Glass shattered as a flash of something silvery flew past me and hit the wall, leaving a tiny dent. I stared at the shimmering silver rock where it lay on the pink carpeting, mouth open: confusion, shock, strange enchantment—didn't it have to be you?

_Jane._

I got up slowly from the rocking chair, my heart pounding and wishing so hard but trying not to hope. I went to the window, opened it and barely noticed the glass as it broke off and shattered on its way down to the grass. You were there, in all your glory. Your whole face was glowing and I stared as the streetlight's warmth bounced off your dark hair and your small smile lit up the night.

"Jane." My voice was lower than a whisper. "What…what are you doing here?" What I meant was: why would you ever come back here, after what I did and the things you said? You told me to rot in hell and I've done my best, but here you are. Who died?

You seemed to sparkle, even at a distance. "I needed to see you."

My heart pounded painfully in my chest. I nodded, already thinking, thinking of how much pride you must've shoved aside to come here, how much I loved you. "Wait there." I was afraid you'd disappear.

I ran down the stairs and into the hall and my breath caught as the screen door opened—crickets and your quiet, shallow breaths were all that broke the silence. Were you cold? Sick? What did I have to do? I kept my eyes—vigilant—trained on your face as I approached you. I waited to see the first sign of tears, of panic.

Nothing.

By the time I'd reached you, I could see you shaking from the cold, your cheeks were pink, and your mouth looked bruised, like winter kissed you. I wanted to pull you to me, cover you, and feel your breathing to assure myself: you're here, you're alive, you're okay—I can fix you.

I'll fix you.

"Jane, you're frozen," I said, to give you warning before I touched you, and I grabbed your shoulders and they went slack as you seemed to breathe out in…relief? What happened to you? Your teeth were chattering and I couldn't hesitate, I picked you up, felt your body against mine and I wanted to carry you to my bed and just as I screamed inwardly, reminding myself of those things you said, the things I'd done and how I failed you—the tip of your nose brushed my neck.

It was enough to make me suck in a breath already and then you kissed the spot your nose had grazed, claiming me.

_I'm yours._

You lay sleeping beside me, all tangled in the sheets Bonnie picked out—telling me she didn't care what my dad thought, these were the ones. I should've changed them when she left. I stared at your face, your mouth, knowing you'd leave when you woke up. I didn't care. It's hard to feel pain when I'm with you.

When I got up, your arm wrapped around my waist, trying to anchor me to the bed: a wave of pure longing went through me. But I pried your fingers away and put your arm down on the bed beside you. "Sleep," I whispered, brushing my lips against your hand, and you smiled, obliviously sleeping on.

I would've stayed in bed with you all day but I knew what was coming. I got dressed, wrote a note and left you. I love you. I hope you know that.

2


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